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She had to surmise bleakly that even if he had married Leonora, she would have suffered a similar fate. Because Lazaro clearly wasn’t interested in forging personal connections or creating the kind of family unit Skye had always yearned for.
She was glad she hadn’t told him the full extent of her dreams and aspirations. She’d exposed herself enough as it was.
Skye had a sleepless night ahead of her. Not because she didn’t know what to do, but because she knew she only had one option.
* * *
The following morning Lazaro heard a noise and looked up from where he was reading his tablet at the breakfast table on the terrace. Skye was standing there, looking pale and incredibly young. He was surprised to notice how tense she was. He put the tablet down and sat forward, pulling out the chair at his right. He had the very distinct impression that Skye might bolt at any moment.
‘Come, sit down.’
He cursed her for his sleepless night. Knowing she was just down the hall had been torture.
Her hair was down and fell over her shoulders in long, damp, curly skeins of red and gold. She must have had a shower. Promptly he was rewarded with an image of water sluicing down her naked body. He shifted in the seat, irritated that she had this power over him.
She wore jeans and another non-descript T-shirt, and suddenly Lazaro wanted to see her draped in silks and satins.
Still she hadn’t moved. He was about to speak again when she blurted out, ‘I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.’
Something unclenched inside him, and he didn’t like to acknowledge that it was a sensation of relief.
He stood up. ‘Come with me. I have something for you.’
He walked back into the house, aware of her light, clean scent. He went into his study and to the safe, took out a small box.
He handed it to Skye, who was still looking pale. Something about her apparent fragility made him feel both irritated and something far more disturbing: protective.
He told himself that it was a natural biological reaction to the woman who was carrying his child.
* * *
Skye took the box. She still couldn’t believe that she’d said yes to Lazaro’s non-proposal and he’d barely changed expression. She cursed herself. What had she been hoping for? Tears of gratitude? He was only marrying her because he wanted to protect his reputation.
And give you and the baby a secure start, reminded her conscience.
She opened the royal blue velvet box and sucked in a breath when she saw the ring. It was a round pink diamond in a gold setting, with smaller white diamonds either side. Unusual. Not what she would have expected from someone like Lazaro.
She loved it.
She touched it and it sparkled. ‘It’s beautiful.’ She looked at Lazaro. ‘You knew I’d say yes?’
‘I was prepared.’
Skye wanted to ask him if he’d picked it out himself but was too superstitious. If he had it would mean something, and if he hadn’t it would mean something.
‘Here—give it to me.’
She handed the box back to Lazaro and he took the ring out. He caught her left hand and lifted it up.
As he placed the ring on her finger Skye was saying, ‘It probably won’t fit—’
But it did. Perfectly. And it looked right on her finger, suited her skin tone.
She pulled her hand back, suddenly very aware of Lazaro holding it and their close proximity. But Lazaro didn’t let go.
She looked at him, thinking, If he kisses me now I’m not going to be able to hide—
Hide what? asked that voice.
